Seemingly significant alterations in my mood are affected by small accomplishments, all of which I can not realize without the help of things like oxygen, the family, castor oil, my body's ability to process B12, and our planet's particular fix in the solar system. Despite these wonders, though, I'm a grump.
A waspy critic, though I don't meant that how I would have 2 or 3 years ago when I subversively eyed the WASP looking to memorize it's technique for organizing a spice rack or edge the walkway. Nowadays I feel like a slightly darker, perhaps more alarming bug on the screen though ultimately you can buy an aerosol can of something off-putting and I will go away and be sad in a gutter. I find it difficult to always be specific. My frustrations disassemble into dreamy poetics. I hate Target and the tidal wave speed of commercial plaza construction. I look on, jaded, and think: "I will come back at night and I will steal their shrubbery, and make a garden of love and war." Television is 99% let down so I don't watch it and when I've lived on my own I simply didn't own a tv (how easy!). Still, it's not always easy to compliment my ideals and actualize my politics. I'm an impulsive thinker and can never stand by any one moral with die hard strength; possible fluctuations in circumstance are a regular part of my deliberations and so my equations are always changing. Shape-shifting: perhaps there is nothing I approve of completely and nothing I condemn entirely. Does this make me wishywashy? A weak character? I usually regret operating solely off of impulses because the next day I can scarcely stand by my old convictions, there's been a shift, chances are I've lived another day and slept another night and nothing in the world will ever be the same again.
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